Like a Man Possessed
by Qui-ti
Summary: Dawn dies during The Gift. Buffy is griefstricken and barely able to function, so Spike begins secretly watching over her. What happens when the Scoobies find out and confront him? What will Buffy think of her guardian? Spuffy, rated M for later chapters
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Okay, I'm just getting into writing Buffy fanfiction, so I'll appreciate any feedback. :) If anyone's interested in beta-reading, let me know!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_**Like a Man Possessed

* * *

**_

_Prologue_

"No!" Dawn's cry resonated through the air as Spike fell, the last look they'd exchanged haunting him in his descent. He hadn't protected her; there was no doubt in his mind that the ritual would begin and seal the girl's fate. The wind whipped around his rapidly plummeting form, but he felt only the immense weight of his failure.

Contact with the ground should have wracked his body with pain, but he barely felt anything; the guilt flooding his system overpowered all other feelings. He had failed.

* * *

Buffy heard the scream ring through the air, and without thinking flung herself up the stairs of the tower. She ran faster than she ever had in her life, taking the steps three at a time, the thought of her sister compelling her to go even quicker.

Her efforts were futile. Ten feet from the top, a burst of energy rocketed through the air and shook the entire structure, a bright light emerging from nothingness directly beneath Dawn. The Slayer's screams of denial were unheard by the others as she raced the last few feet to the top— and was met with her worst fears.

* * *

Chunks of debris fell upon Spike as the portal opened, only a preview of the horrors to come if it remained open. The vampire was paralyzed not only by the concrete holding him down, but by the knowledge that his little nibblet's fate was sealed. With a grunt of pain, he dragged himself from beneath the rubble and stood, looking up just in time to see the scaffolding fall into the portal.

"Dawn!" he yelled, running forward but knowing it was too late. The girl had been swallowed into the energy. He had failed.

* * *

Her sister's face was fearful, her gaze wide and open. The sisters' eyes locked for that single moment before the younger was pulled into the portal, a flash of understanding between the two in their last seconds together.

When the energy disappeared and Buffy was left standing alone, she realized that it didn't matter. Nothing would matter now. She had killed her sister.


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Again, please review. I would really appreciate it because I haven't written anything in almost two years and I need to get my must back, so to speak.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_**Like a Man Possessed

* * *

**_

_Chapter 1_

Silence filled the Magic Box as the sixth person walked into the room, her once lively demeanor now sullen and dark. "Hey, Buffy!" Willow tried to say brightly, her face falling when her friend made no response. The others didn't bother, knowing their greetings would fall to deaf ears.

"Well, erm, thank you all for coming, tonight," Giles started, addressing the group and bringing their attention away from Buffy. It had been over a month since Dawn's death, but her behavior hadn't wavered in the slightest since then. The Watcher didn't expect her to be done grieving—he would have been _more_ concerned if her anguish was short-lived—but was troubled when it appeared the healing process had yet to begin. "As you all know, demonic activity has decreased immensely since… Glory's defeat." As the faces around the table nodded, Giles took off his glasses and began cleaning them. "I believe that the time has come for me to visit the Council and inform them of the events which took place."

"Will you be gone long?" Anya asked, her eyes gleaming at the chance to watch the store on her own.

"A week at the most," he answered. "And yes, you are to be in charge of the shop."

As the former demon clapped her hands with glee, the other Scoobies exchanged glances. Willow, Tara, and Xander had spoken earlier that evening about their concern for Buffy. Giles leaving, even for a week, made their worries a whole lot bigger.

"A-Are you sure you have to leave _now_?" Tara asked tentatively, glancing at the Slayer, who was sitting and looking at Giles with a blank stare.

The Watcher realized what she was referring to and gave an apologetic look. "Yes, well, unfortunately I have no choice. I've put this off as long as the Council was willing to let me, and they're now… demanding my presence." He didn't explain his reasons for delaying the trip, but they were obvious to the group.

Buffy barely heard their conversation, her mind a month in the past—staring into her innocent sister's eyes at the moment of her death. Buffy knew the others were worried about her, but she couldn't bring herself to alleviate their fears. None of them had tried to save Dawn as hard as she had; they had all believed that the only way to win was through her death, and to Buffy, that acceptance had led straight to her sister's fate.

It took her a moment to realize that she was being spoken to. "What?" she asked inattentively, still wrapped up in her inner turmoil.

"Willow and Tara were just asking you something," Xander said carefully, peering into her face as if to see what had been distracting her.

The witches exchanged nervous looks before Willow spoke. "Buffy, with… with Dawn and your mother gone, Tara and I were worried about you all alone in the house."

"We were wondering if you wanted us to stay with you for a while," Tara voiced softly. She gave Buffy a genuinely sympathetic look but said nothing more.

The petite blonde realized that it was now her turn to speak, so she cleared her throat brusquely. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'll be fine." At the skeptical looks she received from around the table, a spark of anger flared within her. "_Really_," she added emphatically, but to no avail.

There was a moment of silence, broken abruptly by Giles' nervous stammering. "Buffy, I know how hard this has been on you, and I'm so sorry that—"

"Don't," the girl said sharply, looking at her Watcher with an impassive expression. "This _is_ what you wanted, isn't it?"

None of the others dared to speak. Buffy stood up quickly and walked out of the Magic Box without a single look back at her friends. There was nothing—_nothing_—that she could say to them at this point in time.

* * *

The vampire slammed the bottle forcefully down on his sarcophagus, smacking his lips loudly as he swallowed the large gulp he had taken. The dark crypt seemingly spun around him and he fell back, cradling the bottle in his arms before closing his eyes.

The same image greeted him every time he sought sleep, seizing his body with guilt and grief. He leapt up and swigged the amber liquid quickly, tears leaking from his eyes as he whispered her name.

The past month, Spike had barely left this room. Clem had visited several times, bringing him blood and trying to get him back to his normal self, but it was a useless attempt. The guilt he felt was all-consuming, and he had no way to alleviate it. The last time he had seen the Slayer, she was cradling her sister's body in her arms. She and the Scoobies hadn't come to see him once since Dawn's death, and although he knew they had never exactly been "friends," their abandonment had still hurt.

A sharp pang of anger pierced through his drunken thoughts. "They're bloody ungrateful, that's what they are!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and quickly pulling on his duster. "I'll show them," he muttered darkly, striding out of his crypt and heading on his way.

It wouldn't take long to reach Buffy's house, but he still hurried. It was early in the evening and she wouldn't be back from patrol for several more hours, but the vampire wanted to be there long before she was.

He would wait for the Slayer, and teach her a little lesson in manners.

* * *

A silent house greeted Buffy when she walked through the front door, laying her keys on the small table and walking straight up the stairs to her room. It was hard to believe—walking through the dark, silent house—that in happier times she complained about the lack of peace and quiet. What she wouldn't give to be ambushed by her giggling sister again…

Tears found their way into her eyes; seconds later, Buffy sank to a seat on the soft mattress of her bed, picking up a pillow and holding it to her chest. She was alone, and it was all her fault. Burying her face against the soft cushion, a cry escaped her chest. Soon after the first, a second and a third followed, and she was sobbing weakly, imprisoned in her own mind by the despair she felt.

The wide-eyed vampire stared through her bedroom window, perched ungracefully on the branch of a tree. His drunken mind suddenly cleared as he saw the tears cascading over her cheeks, a look of pure anguish etched into her features. A sick feeling wormed its way into Spike's stomach, not from his drinking but disgust with his earlier thoughts.

Buffy's small frame was nothing but skin and bones, now; the hair that Spike thought beautiful was limp and dingy. The girl wasn't just sick with grief, the vampire realized. It was as if she was dying from it.

Obviously, she wasn't letting anyone take care of her. Spike knew that Giles and the Scoobies wouldn't sit idly by and let their Slayer become so unhealthy. It was also apparent, though, that she did not wish for help or consolation. It was a frustrating situation to be in, knowing that Buffy protection but was unwilling to accept it.

Well if that was the case, he would just have to give her help without her realizing it. Spike climbed from the branch to the ground after Buffy disappeared from his sight, but he did not move to leave. Instead, he lit a cigarette and leaned against the tree, knowing that at least for that night his Slayer would be safe.


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Eh, I just finished this so I thought I might as well update right away! Please R&R, because feedback would be really helpful!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_**Like a Man Possessed

* * *

**_

_Chapter 2_

"Buffy, just come out for a few hours."

"Yeah, Buff, it's been ages since we've gone to the Bronze!"

"It'll be fun, a night on the town just like old times!"

"What do you say?"

Buffy looked at the four faces gazing at her with plastic smiles. Tara, Xander, Willow, and Anya had been pestering her the past five days, trying to get her to leave the house for more than patrolling and the occasional errand. Their bright, eager faces were obviously faked for her benefit, not wanting to start off a potential evening of fun with gloomy appearances.

It seemed they wouldn't give up. Sighing, Buffy rose and walked to her closet, grabbing a few articles of clothing before heading down the hall to the bathroom. The four remained in her bedroom, looking at one another quizzically.

"So, does that mean she's coming?" Anya asked finally, breaking the awkward silence.

"I-I think so," Willow stuttered, nervously fidgeting when the shower turned on with a loud squeak. "She's getting ready, right?"

"Yeah," Xander said simply. Letting out a sigh of exhaustion, he sat down on Buffy's bed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "When is Giles coming back again?" he burst out, frustration apparent in his voice.

"Tomorrow night, I already told you," Willow answered. "Needless to say, I'll be relieved. I was so afraid that something would happen while he was gone…" She trailed off, not needing to voice what exactly her fears were.

A silence set in once more, but didn't last long. Buffy appeared at the doorway a few minutes later, dressed and looking almost like her old self. "Party time?" she asked with false cheerfulness. At one time, the words would have been normal coming from her, but they seemed strange and foreign after the many long weeks of despondency.

It was with that uncomfortable note that the quintet set off to the Bronze.

* * *

Spike stamped out his cigarette and quickly ducked into the shadows as Buffy and the Scoobies emerged from her house. He waited until they had driven away, swiftly getting on his motorcycle and following. The pursuant bunch had been hounding Buffy everyday and trying to get her to leave the house, and Spike that _thought_ they'd been fighting a losing battle. Apparently he was wrong; he saw the car ahead turn down a side street and realized where they were going.

The vampire left his motorcycle in the alley behind the Bronze and slipped inside, climbing the stairs to the balcony to look through the mass of dancing bodies. After a few moments, he found them sitting at a table and sipping drinks. Anya was talking animatedly; Buffy, Xander, and Tara were making polite attempts to listen; but Willow… was looking straight at him.

Their eyes locked for a second and Spike realized that he had been caught. He had been so bloody intent on watching the Slayer that he didn't consider that anyone would notice his not-so-hidden presence. Cursing, he turned from the witch and disappeared from her sight.

* * *

"Drinks!" Willow exclaimed suddenly, grabbing the half-finished beverages and standing up. "Hey Xander, why don't you come help me out?"

"Um… sure," he said, raising both his eyebrows and walking off with the redhead. "Willow, are you—"

"Spike's here," she interrupted, dropping the phony attitude and developing a serious expression on her face. "He was just standing on the balcony and staring at us, at _Buffy_."

"Great," Xander said sarcastically, shaking his head as he collected fresh glasses from the bartender. "Do we tell Buffy?"

"No!" the witch exclaimed. "No, definitely not. She's got enough problems as it is, a vampire stalking her would definitely add to the stress."

"Are you sure it's not just a coincidence?" The two began to make their way back to the table, but Xander stopped abruptly and waited for Willow's answer.

"I'm not sure," she said softly, looking at Xander seriously. "But we need to find out. Tonight after we bring Buffy back, we wait and see if Spike turns up. If I'm right, we need to tell Giles about this as soon as possible."

Buffy looked up at the two as they reclaimed their seats at the table, then turned and continued listening to Anya, who hadn't stopped talking. There really was nothing more for her to do but wait until the night was over, then head home to the only true companionship she had known since Dawn's death.

It was strange, she thought, that she hadn't spoken to or even had contact with the person that she'd felt closest to recently. Words didn't matter, though; all that was important that he was there, every night, and that he helped her feel safe. She knew when he was near her but didn't dare say anything to him, for fear of losing the guardian that was helping her heal.

Even though she knew he was the one person that understood, Buffy couldn't bring herself to reach out to Spike.

* * *

The said vampire stood sullenly in the dark alley, chain-smoking cigarettes and waiting for the objects of his vigil to leave. He had been stupid, standing out there in the open without the thought that anyone would see him; Willow would surely realize that he was watching Buffy, but he knew the witch well enough to believe that she'd assume he had sinister motivations.

It wasn't a selfish act, nothing like it had been before he had told her that he loved her. Then, he had only wanted to see her for his own satisfaction, him being a gutless wanker who lacked the courage to approach her. All he wanted now was to make sure that she was safe; the thing that scared him the most was the thought of her slipping just _once_ on patrol and letting a demon get the best of her. He had plenty confidence in her ability, but the Slayer just didn't seem to have the fight in her anymore.

Throwing his cigarette brusquely, he straddled the seat of the motorcycle and took off, the engine roaring loudly as he drove down shadowy streets. Buffy would be safe with her friends and it would be far more suspicious to show up at her house just as the Scoobies were leaving, so he would wait for her. A pang of regret shot through the vampire's body; if Willow told Giles that he was watching his Slayer, he would be dust before he could say "Mr. Pointy."

Spike wondered whether they would tell Buffy. The group tended to avoid uncomfortable subjects and might possibly think that she wouldn't _want_ to know that she was being watched; he hoped for this scenario, because he couldn't conceive how the Slayer would react. _Not one to think before you act, eh, Spike? _he wryly thought to himself, wondering whether he would ever learn.

Upon arriving at Revello Drive, the vampire hid his motorcycle and walked the remaining distance to Buffy's house. They could arrive at any time but he didn't move to hide, settling himself against his favorite tree and lighting up yet another cigarette.

* * *

"Well, that was a blast!" Willow said. "We should, uh, do it again next week!"

"Sure," Buffy said politely, looking at the four faces from her doorway. "Well, uh, I'd better get off to bed."

"Right," Tara agreed. "Do you… need anything, Buffy?"

"I'm fine," she answered quickly, leaning against the doorframe. "I just want to get off to sleep."

"Okay," Xander said, nodding. "Good-night, Buff."

"'Night!" Anya chimed in cheerfully.

"Good-night," the Slayer replied, closing the door and leaving the four outside.

Willow waited until they had gotten back in the car before letting out a frustrated sigh. "That didn't go very well."

"What are you talking about?" Tara asked. "I thought it went great!"

"That's because you didn't notice Captain Peroxide spying on us."

"What!"

Xander sighed, putting the car in reverse and backing out of Buffy's driveway. "Spike was watching us when we were at the Bronze," he explained. "I'd hate to end the night on such a creepy note, but we've gotta come back here in a few minutes to see whether it was just that once or whether he's making a habit of watching Buffy again."

An uncomfortable silence filled the car, but ended when Anya said, "Spike's smoking behind the tree under Buffy's window." The three others looked to her with annoyed looks. "Well I didn't want to say anything before because I didn't know we were spying on him!"

"Thanks, Ahn," Xander said, smiling at the blonde sweetly.

"Well I guess that settles it," Willow remarked a moment later, letting out a tired sigh. "As soon as Giles gets back, I'll go talk to him about what's going on."

Tara fidgeted nervously for a moment before speaking. "Do we… do we tell Buffy?"

Willow started to talk but was interrupted by Xander. "I know you don't think we should tell her, Will, but she's got a right to know. She'll find out anyway, even if we don't tell her."

The witch was quiet for a moment, but nodded in acquiescence; the car turned off Revello Drive and drove down the darkened street.

* * *

Buffy collapsed onto her bed, the events of the evening a blur in her mind. After a week of their harassment, she'd finally given in and went with them, the night turning out exactly as she knew it would. Buffy knew that they cared about her and were acting like they were out of concern, but she didn't want—need—to act like everything was normal. Nothing could be normal for a very long time, if ever, after what had happened to Dawn.

The shadow of the tree's leaves shifted slightly, and Buffy knew that Spike was on the branch and looking in her window. She didn't know why his presence didn't unnerve her, or at least bother her like the others' did. It was because there was no pressure, Buffy realized, to 'get over it' and move on; Spike didn't try to make her act in any different way, but simply watched her. He was there when she patrolled, when she had Scooby meetings, and when she went to sleep—he was almost like an angel.

A grin surfaced for a moment at the comparison of the two very different vampires, but it vanished almost as soon as it appeared. Turning on her side and curling up, she pulled a pillow into her embrace and snuggled against it. What she really needed—what she was most afraid of admitting to herself—was just one night with someone holding her.

* * *

"It's crazy, Giles."

The Watcher closed his eyes for a moment, a vein throbbing in his forehead since hearing the latest worrisome development of his Slayer's life. "Well, yes, obviously this needs to be taken care of, as soon as possible."

Willow nodded resolutely. "I'll head there right now, Giles, and take care of everything."

"No," he said sharply, earning a questioning look from the witch. "I'll do it."

"But Giles, you must be exhausted! I mean, you just got back this afternoon after the delayed flight from Hell… well, technically, the delayed flight _to_ Hell, since, hello! Sunnydale and the Hellmouth and all; but I've got no problem dealing with Spike, Giles, it's not like he can _do _anything to me—"

"I said 'no!'" Giles interrupted her rambling with an even sterner voice, and Willow realized now was not the time to argue. "Spike has been an ally at times, but his behavior is dangerous and I will _not_ tolerate it for any longer." The look in his eyes was almost frightening in its intensity. "Whatever Spike's motivations are, they do not matter. I refuse to sit idly by and have him harass Buffy." With that, he stormed out of the Magic Box and left a very uneasy Willow standing alone.

* * *

Spike opened his eyes groggily, only to be greeted with a very pissed-off Watcher holding a stake to his chest. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Rupes!" Spike yelled, instantly wide-awake.

"You know exactly why I am here Spike, so I want you to listen to me very carefully." Giles spoke with deadly precision, and the vampire realized that these could very well be the last words he heard. "You will stay away from Buffy. You will not contact her, you will not follow her, and you will not send others to follow her. If you in any way try to interfere with our lives, and most specifically my Slayer's, I will know. And I will come here to personally dust you." The stake pressed more vehemently into the vampire's chest, as if the Watcher wanted to drive the point closer to home—literally.

"Rupert," Spike said softly, his eyes locked on the wooden weapon, "I haven't been trying to hurt Buffy." When he paused for a response and received none, he continued. "I just wanted to make sure she was alright on her patrols and such; I know you've noticed how skinny the bit's become, and I've just been afraid that some li'l nasty will catch her in the dark someday and…" He trailed off, unable to voice the disturbing thought.

Giles was still for a moment, then promptly pocketed the stake. Spike sat up, letting out a sigh of relief as he stood and faced the other Englishman. He almost thought the two of them would see eye to eye, but the idea vanished when the Watcher spoke. "Regardless of your intentions, Spike, you are not doing Buffy a service. I stand by what I said before—leave my Slayer alone."

The man swiftly strode out of the crypt, closing the door and leaving the vampire in complete darkness. As much as it hurt to admit it, Spike accepted that Giles was right. Buffy didn't need someone _stalking_ her; she needed the love and support of her friends, one of which he most obviously _wasn't_.

Despite the logic in Giles' statement, a small voice in Spike's head kept telling him that he was making the wrong decision in giving up. _No_, he told himself, _there's nothing that I can do to help her_. It wasn't the fear of being dusted that had convinced him; he simply refused to do anything that could hurt Buffy. Grabbing a bottle of bourbon from the table, the vampire settled back down on his sarcophagus and began drinking himself to sleep.

* * *

Buffy and Xander sat awkwardly at the island in her kitchen, each staring at their hands and none looking straight at the other. "Buffy," Xander finally said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Completely out of her character, the blonde didn't quip on the embarrassing event, but patiently waited for him to continue speaking. "Buffy, Spike's been following you, again."

"Oh," Buffy replied disinterestedly. "Are you staying for dinner?"

Xander was flustered for an instant, but quickly worked up the ability to speak. "You don't care!"

"I already knew." A pause. "Am I supposed to be bothered?"

"Well… yeah, Buff!" Xander exclaimed. "I mean, come on—don't you have enough on your plate right now without a deranged vampire—"

"At least he hasn't been trying to make me act like my sister didn't just die." Buffy's eyes were wide and there was a deadly serious tone in her voice. "Xander, I know you and the others are trying, but… it just isn't working."

"Tell us what you need, then," the brunette pleaded. "Please, Buffy, just let us know! You don't need _Spike_, you need—"

"Stop," she interrupted. There was a moment of silence before she continued. "Unless you know what it feels like to wake up every morning dead inside, then I don't think you can help me." Without another word, Buffy strode through the door outside, leaving a very stunned Xander alone in her own house.

She didn't look where her legs were carrying her; she only cared to move as far away from her home as possible. It wasn't Xander or the others' fault that she felt this way, Buffy knew, but they were trying to take away from her the only solace that she had.

Dazzled by the brightness, she shook her head and realized where she was. The sea of headstones surrounding her looked so much different in the light of day; she had never truly looked at them in this way before. The Slayer gazed at the rapidly setting sun, a long-repressed emotion welling up in her chest as her face was bathed in light. It was the feeling inside of her that compelled her to renounce her stubbornness. No longer would she spurn the passion she'd denied for so long. At dusk, she would go to him.


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! This chapter's short, but just because the one following it has some rather long scenes that can't be cut down. :o Sorry if it disappoints, but I'll have the next soon (and I think it'll be pretty good).

* * *

**_Like a Man Possessed

* * *

__Chapter 3_ **

The shadows slowly descended around her as Buffy leaned against the wall of Spike's crypt. She had watched the sun set anxiously, counting down the moments until she could finally speak to him. What exactly she would _say_… that was another question. It was almost entirely dark, but she still had no idea what to tell him, not to mention the courage to walk through his door.

If Buffy was one thing, it _wasn't_ a coward; she had faced adversaries with more power than herself without the slightest sign of panic… but until she could put words to what she intended to tell him, Buffy was stubbornly staying right where she was.

* * *

Anya stood behind the counter, watching Tara and Willow listen to Giles' recount of his "successful" meeting with Spike. Sighing, she lifted the money from the cash register and counted it for a third time that evening. She could barely stand to wait any longer for Xander and Buffy to arrive, so they could get the whole "Spike thing" (as she called it to herself) out of the way—it seemed wrong to her to meddle with people's business when they didn't _wish_ for it to happen, but the others were certain they were doing what was best.

A moment later, the tinkling of a bell announced the arrival of their missing members. The four already present looked to the door, but were puzzled when Xander entered alone. "Giles," he said in a rush, "I think we've made a mistake."

Tara and Willow sat down in their usual seats, uneasy expressions on their faces. "What happened?" Giles asked, removing his glasses and furiously wiping away any smudges he found.

Xander sat at the table across from the witches, his elbows resting on the surface and his head in his hands. Anya came from behind the counter quickly and took a seat next to him, concerned at his obvious anxiety. "What happened?" she repeated softly, taking one of his hands in her own when he looked up.

"I think," he began, "that we made a mistake in keeping Spike away from Buffy."

"Where is she?" Giles asked, his voice suddenly full of urgency.

"Buffy left when I was talking to her. I-I think she went to see Spike." When Giles moved towards the door, Xander quickly called out, "Wait!"

The Watcher turned to face the younger man, realizing that there was more to what Xander had to say. "What else happened?"

Suddenly, the brunette seemed in a rush to finish. "I told Buffy that Spike had been following her. She said she already knew and that it didn't bother her." At this point, Willow tried to interrupt, but Xander quickly resumed talking. "I told her that it should and that we were here to help her, that she didn't need him when she had us, but… she brought something up that we never really took into account." Taking a deep breath, he finished. "None of us have really felt loss like Buffy has—except for Spike."

Giles stood completely still, Xander's perception making complete sense to him. He had been so focused on keeping the "bad things" away from Buffy that he hadn't realized they were already within her. A rush of guilt flooding through him, he turned to leave again.

"Where are you going?" Tara asked before he reached the door.

"To make up for my mistakes." He was reaching for the knob when an unforeseen hand touched his shoulder.

Turning, Giles was met with Anya's clear brown eyes. "Giles, listen to me. You don't need to do anything at all right now."

The Watcher let out a skeptical scoff, rolling his eyes. "Yes, you're quite right, Anya—threatening to take Spike's unlife if he helps Buffy is something that needs no remedy at all at the moment."

"You're exactly right," she unexpectedly answered, cocking her head to the side and smiling patronizingly at him. When all eyes were on her, Anya simply stated, "Nothing that any of us can do will keep two people apart if they truly wish to be with each other." At the amazed looks she received from the group, the blonde smiled and bobbed her head cheerfully. "Not that your fatherly influence is what it used to be, eh, Rupey?"

* * *

The Slayer was here.

He had been able to smell her for almost an hour, and he'd been nervously pacing since then, countless ideas flooding his mind as to what her presence might mean. It wasn't like he could just skip outside and ask why she was here—the sun was still high enough to prevent _that_ particular exploit.

Spike was a pessimist by nature. Nearly a century-and-a-half of "life" could do that to someone, especially if they happened to be a creature of the darkness—optimists among vampires tended to reach their dusty ends sooner rather than later. Ever since Giles' visit, Spike had wondered whether the Scooby gang had told Buffy what had happened, and now he obviously knew. Unfortunately, the answer only opened up a new batch of questions.

How did she react upon learning that he was once again following her? Did she jump to the same conclusion as the Scooby group, or did she consider other possibilities? If she'd agreed with her friends, what would she do to him now? Why had she been waiting outside for so long? For some reason, Spike didn't think it customary for someone coming to commit murder to wait until polite calling hours. Of course, maybe she was out there plotting the best way to enact his demise. Ill thought out conclusions tumbled around in his head, and soon he was an irrational ball of nerves.

He wasn't supposed to be like this! He was a vampire, a sodding _monster_—and here he was, quaking in his boots at the thought of the little girl outside. The alcohol he'd earlier consumed sent forth a wave of anger, and in an impulsive move he strode to the door and threw it open.


	5. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! You guys are great! Only a couple more chapters to go until this first fic is done. I think I might make a sequel to it once Buffy and Spike come to some... resolution. :) Until then, though, enjoy your second-to-last chapter!

* * *

_**Like a Man Possessed

* * *

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_Chapter 4_

The second the last ray of sunlight passed beneath the horizon, the door flew open, practically ripped off its hinges, and Spike emerged from the crypt. For a second, Buffy thought she saw anger in his eyes, but it melted away into a gaze of trepidation. She stared for a moment but quickly looked away. "How long have you known I was here?"

"About an hour," he replied gravely. He could see even in the darkness the shadows beneath her eyes; seeing her from a distance or through her window was one thing, but truly being with her was a shock that he hadn't quite expected. The physical toll taken on her in the past month was greater than he had realized, and he was amazed that she hadn't been assailed by a demon yet—even with her diminished health, her strength still remained.

As they stood in silence, Spike's mind continued onto a different subject—the powerful influence Buffy had on who _he_ was. Before he met her, he had no qualms about killing; it was, to him, a source of entertainment and just another part of who he was. But after seeing for himself just who the woman behind the Slayer was, he could become rendered helpless by one look into her eyes. Smirking slightly, he remembered an all too true statement he'd made about himself. _I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it._

Buffy's mind was going roughly the same speed as Spike's. She was the Chosen One, the Slayer, and here she was sitting in a graveyard with a _vampire_—a vampire she'd neglected to kill on several occasions and who happened to be madly in love with her. Why she hadn't finished him before the Initiative had defanged him was beyond her. An unexpected realization came to her at that thought, though—she was _glad_ that she hadn't killed him. The Slayer, relieved by her own failure? Buffy squeezed her eyes shut tightly but couldn't block the unsettling knowledge from her mind.

Unexpectedly, she turned to face the vampire beside her. Their eyes locked again, and both of their minds abruptly cleared. Brought back to why she was here, Buffy took a deep breath and spoke. "Dawn… She should be the one here, not me." It was the truth—she had been willing to give her life for Dawn, and if she had done so, she would have wanted her sister to be right here with Spike.

"I'm sorry," Spike responded without taking his eyes off hers, and Buffy knew that he wasn't just saying so out of civility—the shame and guilt in his gaze flooded her with compassion.

"You shouldn't be," she answered honestly, looking away again and beginning to walk slowly down the familiar path she'd traveled for five years; Spike, as always, followed her. It almost seemed as if they were bound by their grief, connected so that they needed the other to heal—they weren't about to go their separate ways, not just yet. The two didn't speak for a minute or so, both reassured by their companion's presence.

It was an unusually still night. There was always something "horror movie-esque" going on, but the pair had yet to encounter anything at all supernatural. It was almost as if they were walking through a normal graveyard in a normal city. Of course, Sunnydale's cemeteries weren't _exactly_ like the movies'—Buffy had never found herself surrounded in swirling mist, and there were more palm trees than weeping willows. Still, the conspicuously missing demonic activity was yet another strange part of the night.

Spike lit a cigarette and began puffing at it, subconsciously craving something to occupy him during the silence they shared. He'd hoped that smoking would calm his nerves, but the act was not having the desired effect. Impatiently, he threw the cigarette to the ground and looked down as he put it out; when he looked up, they were standing in front of Dawn's grave.

A part of him knew that they were heading there, but it was still a shock to see it so suddenly. He had visited it before, after the others had left the funeral and on a few other occasions, but he had been wary that he would have an uncomfortable encounter with the Scooby gang and hadn't gone as often as he wanted.

Buffy had only been once, during the funeral. The pain she felt was a constant ache, but being at her sister's grave turned it into something more… real. There was still a part of her that didn't want to accept Dawn's death. The others had before it even _happened_, and she almost felt as if she would be repeating their betrayal by acknowledging it as well. Only now, standing there with her sister's last protector, did she feel strong enough to face her grief.

Spike could tell that Buffy was quickly losing her composure—she had twisted away when he tried to look at her face. The slight glimpse he caught looked as if she was holding back a sob.

The Slayer suddenly sat on the ground in front of but facing away from him. As he stared at the broken woman, he noticed tiny flowers growing from the grass beneath them. Spike kneeled down and took his gaze from Buffy for a moment; he caressed the golden velvet petals of one blossom for a second, then pulled it from the ground.

His chip activated and the vampire flinched, but did not cry out—the pain was far less from picking a flower than, say, attempting to bite a human. _Soddin' Initiative_, he thought mutinously, proceeding to gather more of the blossoms growing from Dawn's grave. Spike used to pick flowers for his mother all the time—her face would light up magically when he brought her a colorful bouquet.

The chip didn't just repress the demon within him; it took away simple things that the man he used to be had loved. William had died once, but was being completely destroyed by forces unbeknownst to him.

Reaching forward, Spike tucked a flower behind Buffy's ear; she turned automatically and he was struck with how beautiful she looked with the blossom accenting her wavy tresses. "My Goldilocks," he murmured to himself, lifting a tendril of her hair, then looking down at the flowers he held and suddenly becoming embarrassed.

Buffy was amazed—she never would have taken Spike to be the "giving-a-girl-flowers" type; she was surprised with herself, too, since she had long considered the ritual to be tired and gaudy. Here she found herself, though, practically melting inside at the gesture.

Turning to face him, she reached forward and took his hand in her own. His eyes flickered to hers, fear clearly evident in his gaze. "Buffy," he said softly. Suddenly, he stood, turning from her for a moment before whirling to look down upon her.

"You need to hold on, Buffy." His voice wavered as he spoke, the words obviously difficult for him to say.

"What?"

Spike began pacing, nervously running his fingers through his bleached locks. "I see you everyday, slipping further and further into the darkness. Don't you see, Slayer?" His voice had gained strength as he spoke, and was full of intensity as he concluded by uttering, "You belong in the light."

His words were unexpected, but Buffy quickly responded. "I think I see more than you do, Spike. I see that the darkness is already inside of me." A pause. "Can you still love me if I'm dead inside?"

He didn't hesitate before answering, "As much as a dead man can." Kneeling down before Buffy, he looked to her hooded eyes, unafraid of what unspoken feelings he might see there. Her anger, sadness, and guilt did not scare him as they did the others. He loved every part of her, the good _and_ the bad, and he would do everything in his power to show her that.

"Look at me," Spike said softly, his eyes locked on her face until she finally met them, fear and despair evident in her own gaze. "Slayer, I love you. More than anything on this bleedin' earth." A sad smile slowly formed on his face as he brushed away a tear from her cheek. "Even though I've got no soul, no life inside of me, you make me feel alive again." He leaned forward, tilting the silently weeping girl's face up to meet his as he hesitantly gave her a chaste kiss on the lips.


	6. Chapter 5

Author's Note: So here's the end. I don't think it's that fantastic, but it's alright for my premiere fic BACK into fanfiction / into the Buffyverse. I may expand and make a sequel, but I won't be at the computer for 2 weeks so don't expect anything from me until then. :) Thanks for reading, and please review!

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_**Like a Man Possessed**_

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_Chapter 5_

Shaking slightly, Spike pulled away from Buffy's warm lips, his own tingling where they had made contact. "I'm sorry," he murmured apologetically, looking away from her questioning gaze. "You don't need me professing my love to you all _Gone with the Wind_ when—"

His words were abruptly cut off as she roughly pulled him to her, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as their lips intertwined in a passionate kiss. After a heated moment, they broke apart, both panting heavily (although unnecessarily in Spike's case) and a blush staining Buffy's cheeks.

"Right, then," Spike suddenly said, "Up you go." He stood up, offering the Slayer his hand and sighing with relief when she chose to take it—there was nothing more embarrassing to the Victorian man inside him than a rebuffed courtesy.

"Where are we going?" Buffy asked. It was small, but Spike thought he could sense a small part of her old charm in her intonation—there was surely a difference from how she had sounded only minutes earlier. He didn't hear the doubtful tone in her voice, however; she was confused by his unexpected suggestion to go and wondering what she had done wrong.

Spike thought for a moment before replying. "Wherever you want, love." He had been the one to instigate leaving Dawn's grave, but had no real destination in mind—he just needed to point things in a different direction from where they were obviously heading. Cursing his sudden conscience, he didn't realize that Buffy had replied.

"What was that?"

"I want to go to your crypt." If there was any answer Spike had expected, that most certainly wasn't it. He stopped walking and turned to face Buffy, placing his hands on her shoulders and peering into her face. Before he could figure out how to voice his concerns, she put her hands on his chest and leaned in until their lips were barely touching. "Don't say anything, Spike. I just want to…" She trailed off, closing the distance between their two bodies and pressing her lips fully against his.

They stood like that for a moment, the kiss remaining simple and innocent; however, the demon in Spike wouldn't let it stay that way and soon they were locked in a tight embrace, the movement of their lips and tongues awakening lust deep inside them both.

A sudden thought occurred to the vampire a moment later; she protested when he made to move away, but he managed to resist and did so. "Buffy, I—"

"Please, Spike," she breathed, her hand caressing his cheek softly and pulling his face closer to hers. "I know what I need, and it's you." He hesitated for a moment, then pressed her tightly against him and kissed her fervently until she pulled away, gasping for air.

Luckily, they weren't too far from his crypt; if they hadn't been so near, both knew they wouldn't have been able to resist temptation. The moment they stumbled through into the room, Spike grasped Buffy's hips, lifted her up, and slammed her against the door, breathing harshly against the skin of her neck and nipping at her pulse point as she wrapped her legs around his body.

Buffy let out a heady moan when his cool fingers slipped beneath her shirt, stroking her heated skin. Regaining her composure for a moment, she kissed him fiercely before attempting to pull at his shirt, ineptly undoing the buttons but managing to wrestle it off his body—an amazing feat considering her position and the rather distracting things he was doing to her. She knew she was being rough but it didn't matter to her at that moment—all she wanted right then was to feel the icy skin of his body on top of hers.

She wasn't using him; there was nothing "convenient" about their encounter, and if she had only wanted sex she could have gone to anyone. There was something more to it than that and they both knew it, even without saying it. As he let her down and kissed her surprisingly tenderly, Buffy felt something deep inside of her stir, and not just a lust for the man standing before her.

Blinking confusedly, she realized that her shirt had somehow been removed, and the vampire before her was making quick work of her bra. The intensity of their actions doubled when her hands slid down his bare chest to his waist, moving them to the front and unfastening his jeans. When she slipped them down his hips, his length sprang out and pressed against her heat through her skirt. Spike let out a growl when her petite hand wrapped around his shaft, squeezing it gently and making it grow even harder.

"Oh god, Buffy," he hissed, the heat of her hand on him almost more than he could handle. He knew that if they continued at the pace they were going, there wouldn't be a "main attraction" of the night. "Stop."

"Why?" she asked innocently, an ill-concealed and delightfully wicked smile playing at her lips. She had slowed her ministrations to a teasing pace and was reveling in the strained look on Spike's face.

"Let's go down to the bed."

"Oh!" The thought had never occurred to her and now seemed like a rather simple concept. Giving his member one last squeeze and eliciting a moan from the vampire, she let go and grabbed his hand, instead.

Spike looked at her, surprised and (although he would never admit it) pleased at her innocent gesture of affection. For some reason, he couldn't shake the idea that she was just using him to give herself freedom from her grief—William's rejection still played a large part in his self-esteem, however wicked, evil, and confident he attempted to appear.

Noticing the troubled look on his face, Buffy reached up and touched his cheek tenderly, as if to ask what was wrong. He shook his head and looked away for a moment, only to return his gaze with an incredible intensity; he made to speak, but was cut off by the girl before him.

"Spike, I'm not using you." How she knew exactly what was troubling him was beyond his comprehension, but he didn't interrupt to ask. Smiling at his surprise, she continued. "The past month has been… unbelievably hard. And even though I knew that I should be trying to heal and to go on living, it was impossible for me to consider." She took a shaky breath but managed to finish. "You've been there for me, even when you weren't exactly standing in front of me like you are right now." Looking at their current position, she let out a laugh. "I never though I'd be having this conversation while I was sorta naked-y."

His concerns eradicated, Spike pulled her to him gently and kissed her lips, gently as to not ruin their moment. When he pulled away, Buffy whispered, "I won't forget it."

They made their way down to the lower level of his crypt, quickly removing their clothes and settling themselves down upon his bed. "Wow!" Buffy exclaimed when she bounced slightly upon it. "This mattress is kinda really comfy!"

"Well, I only nicked one that I most definitely _couldn't_ afford," Spike rumbled, his hand slipping down the golden skin of her body and resting on one of her thighs. Buffy laid back and closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath when his finger gently stroked her center.

The vampire dipped his head lower and began to tenderly kiss her collarbone and her chest, until his lips wrapped around one pink nipple. Buffy moaned at this, her fingers entwining in his bleached locks and mussing their neat appearance; he moved to her other breast and gently caressed the first while flicking his tongue against the hardened peak. Hearing the Slayer moan his name gave both the demon and romantic in Spike a satisfied feeling, and at that he slipped a finger into her heated passageway.

His actions were simple, but they aroused Buffy more than she ever had been in her life. Conscious thought was completely eradicated, and all she could do was concentrate on the pleasure she was feeling. When Spike's head left her breasts, she let out a protesting moan but quickly disregarded her complaint when he kissed a trail down her body and settled between her legs. Grabbing hold of her thighs, he slowly spread them and gazed upon her, leaning forward and taking a long lick.

Time stopped for a moment and Buffy didn't care—all that mattered was his cool tongue against her. "Spike," she moaned headily, his finger stroking inside of her and his mouth gently caressing her clit. "Spike, please, I want more." The bleached vampire didn't immediately stop, toying with the idea of continuing until she finished, but he disregarded the idea and did as she wished, moving up her body and settling his hips between her still-spread thighs. Kissing her flushed cheeks tenderly, he slowly slid his length inside of her sheath, letting out a strangled moan when her heat encased him completely.

"You're amazing, Buffy," he managed to gasp as he slowly thrust himself into her, the fit of their two bodies unbelievably perfect. Her arms wrapped around his back and her hands gripped his shoulders, helping him as his movements quickened. "Wrap your legs around me," he grunted when she pulled him down to her and nipped at the skin of his neck. She complied and gasped when the angle of his penetration changed and hit her perfectly inside.

"Spike," she moaned, lifting her head and kissing his soft lips fiercely—the feeling of his now-hot skin (undoubtedly heated from her) pressed against her body was almost more than she could take. She began lifting her hips to meet his and the intensity of his thrusts doubled. Gasping, he took hold of her wrists and held them above her head, the sight of her body spread before him almost more than he could take.

He knew she was getting close, a flush appearing on the skin of her neck and her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her mouth open with a moan as she pulled him harder into her. With a loud gasp, she came, her sheath tightening around him and pulling him into his own climax a second later. Collapsing onto her, they rested, the frantic beating of her heart slowing and lulling the vampire atop her into a tired daze. Before he was completely asleep, he slid out of her and murmured, "I love you, Buffy," wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him.

The said-woman lifted herself up, posing on her side with her weight resting on her arm. She gazed down upon the sleeping vampire beside her, the goofy smile upon his lips eliciting one of her own. It was unbelievable that they had reached this point in their ever-rocky relationship and that she felt so happy right now, when the night before she had cried herself to sleep. Her unspoken desire that she had felt then returned to her, and she realized that she could finally have what she wanted. Settling herself back down, she closed her eyes and let the arm securely holding onto her lull her into a satisfied slumber.

Her conscious mind was barely aware of the feeling Spike had awoken inside of her, but as she drifted off to sleep, she murmured softly, "I love you."

Opening his eyes at the words, Spike stared unbelievably at the girl he held, then smiled. Later they would need to talk, but for now, he let himself be content with falling asleep in her arms.


End file.
